


Vizsla's Folly

by saphsaq



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Carlac, Concordia - Freeform, Darksaber, Death Watch - Star Wars, F/M, Florrets of Cassius Trees, Florrum, Gratuitous porn, M/M, Mand'alor, Mandalore, Mandalorians - Star Wars, PWP, Resol'nare, Zanbar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphsaq/pseuds/saphsaq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An adult Version of <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Eminence_%28episode%29">Eminence</a> for all those, who were disappointed by the Darth Maul and Pre Vizsla action in the 5th season of <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Star_Wars:_The_Clone_Wars_%28TV_series%29">TCW</a> . For all those, who thought it odd, that the Death Watch again made a pact with a Sith after been abused by Count Dooku quite recently and also centuries before, during the Mandalorian Wars, by other Lords of the Dark Side. The plot skips the rest of the Darth Maul story arc from <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/The_Clone_Wars:_Season_Five">season five</a>  (episode 1, 15 and 16). However, if inspiration hits, I might integrate later on the other episodes too. So far this is a raw, unbetaed sketch using a few bits of quotations from the original cartoon serial, respectively from its novelization in <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/The_Clone_Wars:_Darth_Maul:_Shadow_Conspiracy">Shadow Conspiracy</a> by <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jason_Fry">Jason Fry</a> as well as some Mandalorian terms 'n tenets introduced into Star Wars by <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Karen_Traviss">Karen Traviss</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Mandalore

**Author's Note:**

> The pwp part is in chapter 5. And it's all about Bo-Katan and Savage. Just saying.

"As you said. Only the strongest shall rule." And he was strong, was he not? Still strong... Just a short respite... Just a moment to gather power... Heavy leaned Pre Vizsla on his knees and arms. He felt the Darksaber coming. The minute, flickering discharges fringing the plasma beam evoked a sensation on his skin like the cool breeze produced by a swift moving weapon of steel. And for the glimpse of an eye Pre thought, he could see both, his red blood and the black blade which made it spring. But that was nonsense. The plasma had cauterised the cut and the floor of Sundari's throne room was just grey marble. His headless body embraced the ground.


	2. Near Florrum Some Time Before

Pre Vizsla knew his men were looking at him, expecting a sign, a word. The Mandalorian armour made quiescent hulks of everyone, concealing under its sleek surface even some of the weapons they carried. But their sensor-enhanced senses were trained at him, ready to follow the lead of his slightest motion. With likewise acuteness however they watched the escape pod they had entered. They were soldiers on a mission. He had taught them well.

From the limits of his HUD's perception Pre registered also his lieutenant's slightly annoyed stance. Of course, Bo-Katan was the least to be happy with ransacking jetsam and flotsam at the seam of Florrum's gravitation girdle instead doing a raid of the planet itself. She had chosen the nite owl, the swift hunter, as her mark. Not a scavenger bird. Couldn't be else for an offspring of noble Kryze clan. But Bo-Katan also knew, that he had not lazily waited until his scout did call him from the Gauntlet's bridge. There was no scout. The leader of Death Watch was always a member of the landing party like his lieutenant, or the pilot, or any gunner. They couldn't afford the finer military protocol anyway after having lost several men at Concordia and some more at Carlac.

The interior of the escape pod remained dim despite the torches brought in. Random beams of light played on the t-shaped visors of the helmets of his men, revealing nothing of the thoughts behind them. Yet he had seen their eyes after been defeated by the Jedi and after Count Dooku let them down. Still they voted in his favour. Like today, when a re-supply mission was merged with tracking his arch-enemy, the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. But some day one would challenge him. Suddenly Pre Vizsla felt tempted to stretch this very moment until a hand raised and demanded the Darksaber, the sign of the leader of Death Watch from him. Instead he turned his attention to his immediate environs. The drifting escape pod they had picked up and locked to the Gauntlet was dark because it lacked energy. According to build and colours it belonged once to an Aurore-class freighter going by the name of ALC-9. What happened to ALC-9, what it had carried, well, that was easy to figure out. A pirate raid. Goods. Any goods. In the galaxy's Outer Rim even a rusty screw had its worth. But why Florrum's pirates let the escape pod do its namesake work and take the last of the freighter's crew or passengers away, that however had no simple answer.

Pre Vizsla allowed himself some more time before he would give the expected sign. The HUD of his helmet told him temperature and oxygen in the pod were almost as low as in open space. But the sensors identified the two figures resting on the pod's bunks as alive. One a giant, bulky as a Wroshyr log, with a cut off arm and missing parts in the crone of horns on his head. Yet when Pre eventually moved, he went to the other bunk. The one stretched out there was even more worse off, the slender torso attached to artificial legs, one of them shattered beyond repair.

Curious Pre reached out and grabbed the chin of the one with the artificial legs before him. His HUD confirmed those two unfortunate travellers were Zabraks. Males with hard-set faces, not with the baffled expression of trippers in a mishap. Hard-bodied men with muscles under their skin, not the soft flesh of merchants living from pirate swag. But the most remarkable thing were their tattoos. Bold and daring, they gave testament to great pain and a strong will to conquer it. Some of his men sported also tattoos. But none even nearly to this extend. And as if to confirm his stamina, the Zabrak squirmed suddenly under Pre's hand, trying to shake it off. For a moment Pre expected the man would open his eyes, but he just moved his lips noiselessly before relapsing into stillness.

Bo-Katan shifted weight from one foot to the other. This small, impatient motion spread through the line of his men. Invisible inside his helmet Pre Vizsla bared his teeth in a grin. Still he had not made up his mind, had he? But then Pre realised what he looked on for several moments now. Into the belts of the Zabraks where lightsabres tucked! Yet, peculiar enough the arm of the giant was also cut off by one. Cho Sun. Or perhaps a botched Cho Mai? But certainly a strike applied by a Jedi in order to spare an opponent's life. "You're not a Jedi, are you?" asked Pre loud enough to be heard by everyone in the pod. "Who are you?"

His lieutenant choose to ignore the decision of the leader of the Death Watch: "Should we rub 'em out?"

"No," _I want to see his eyes---_ But he owed his second in command a more reasonable explanation. "I want to hear their story. If they're an enemy of the Jedi, then they're a friend of mine." He turned to his already obediently stirring men: "Load 'em up."


	3. At Zanbar A Bit Later

Large raindrops tapped incessantly on the fabric of the tent, promising more cold fog and mud in the excessive forests outside their camp. Pre Vizsla unlatched the box and felt around for the bundle containing his personal tea-bowls.  
He heard the voice of Bo-Katan in his back: "Again, I guess."

"Again tea with a Sith," he confirmed. Carefully he balanced the fragile dishes in on hand and closed the box with the other one. It was dark in the corner of the tent. He did not need to look over his shoulder to know, the younger Kryze, leaning casually with folded arms against a table by the fire, invoked the image of her sister. Except that Duchess Satine would never ware full combat gear.

"Death Watch is strong. A force to be reckoned with." Pre carried the bundle over to the table, unwrapping the bowls and wiping some invisible dust away with the soft fabric.

"Yet at the moment too small to wrench Mandalore from the grip of the New Mandalorians and end their dar'manda reign in a single, ultimate strike," responded Bo-Katan, taking the words out of his mouth. "I know."  
Pre turned to his second in command, closing the distance between the two of them until the tips of their boots almost met: "The floor is yours."

The woman's lip's curled in an implied snarl, revealing sharp, white teeth: "Still can't trust 'em. Any bounty hunter with only a trace of Mandalorian blood in the veins would do better."

"The loyalty of a bounty hunter is an expensive affair." She wore the grey hair-band he had cut himself from the cloth of shimmersilk wrapping his tea-bowls when she had lost the black one, the gift of her sister. Grey was better to the copper of her chin-long tresses and the deep green of her eyes. Grey softened her too broad mouth and too high forehead. Bo-Katan was not build like her delicate sister. And unlike her sister, who mingled with the Jedi, it would never occur to her, that there were situations when you have to find your opportunities beyond the Mando'ade. Pre Vizsla stared into his lieutenant eyes until she looked away. Her voice was low, when she said: "Loyalty measured in credits is at least something you can put your hands on. We should sell the Sith."

"We saved them and they pledged alliance. Against our common foe. Against the Jedi." Pre kept his voice low too, knowing Bo-Katan was subdued already. To reconcile her with her defeat, he added soothing: "But your idea how to put the Sith at test was brilliant." Indeed he must grant, to prove the Zabrak's sense of honour by making herself the target for his wrath was a move only his lieutenant would dare. Reckless, and by that concealing effectively that all was set up. However, the outcome of the test would not have changed anything, because his men had voted earlier to merge forces with the Sith. Pre changed subject: "What's with the invalid?"

Bo-Katan retrieved a battered pad from the table behind her, starting systematically to tick off the points its display showed. "Same numbers as last week. No new cases of parasitic diseases. With the supplies from that escape pod we have medication for the gastric diseases for three more days. But I wont recommend to postpone the next raid. Your permission granted, I'm going today. This illness will stay for a long time. Finally, injuries. Despite the patching up of the two Zabraks, which drained our stock of prosthetic material significantly and destroyed one of the orthopaedics, the med-droids are in high spirits." Bo-Katan's face was lit by a boyish grin: "They said, they're looking forward to have more of that. Droids!"

This was thought to cheer him up and Pre Vizsla appreciated the kind gesture. But he could not laugh. He put a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder. Her armour was cool and solid under his hand: "Not long, and we're going to be able to draw from Sundari Hospital's abundant resources. Dismissed."

The boyish grin dropped. Bo-Katan's gaze tried to catch his, her eyes dark and questioning. She draw a hissing breath, but before she could commence to speak Pre took a step aside. The woman appeared as if frozen to the spot and all of a sudden an irrational fear of having to share Maul's company with someone else closed Pre's throat.

Eventually his lieutenant rose from where she had leaned at the table. After a few, dragging steps she stopped without turning: "Good luck, alor. If you watch one Sith, I'll keep an eye on the other one." When he remained silent, she squared her shoulders and stalked out of the tent.

Several moments later the flap covering the entrance of the tent was pulled back again and the Sith stepped in. He probably noticed, that no Mandalorian warrior was present except Pre Vizsla, but he didn't comment on it. Gracefully, as if the prosthetics where his own since birth, he moved over to the table and sat down.

Pre noticed the lack of a greeting and the ignorance to his role as host. But then the Zabrak turned his mask-like black and red tattooed face to look up to him and asked in an even tone "You want to speak with me?" It remembered Pre of the Akk dogs he saw as child in circus. They had occupied their seats in the arena in a matter of course, pre-empting whatever pointers their tamer gave. Pre had learned later, these animals take in the precepts of their training so deeply, they would maul their master for the smallest deviation in the routine of tricks. He never witnessed such incident, as much as he had wished as a boy.

"How is your brother, Maul?" Pre poured tea from a thermos.

"His recovery proceeds well," answered Maul, watching intently the tea-bowl shoved over to his side of the table, "he will become stronger than before. I think he gave you a little demonstration of it already."

Pre Vizsla sat down, not reaching immediately for his tea: "The destroyed med-droid you mean? Your brother's name is Savage. I suppose he can be a bit --- impulsive at times." The Sith should be smart enough to read between the lines. Yet even if he missed the hint, no stronger warning was needed since Bo-Katan had indicated not the slightest problem with the reduced number of med-droids.

"Impulse --- passion --- that is what separates an apprentice from a master," responded the Sith and Pre thought it almost sounded dreamily. But before he could questions his senses, the Zabrak raised his bowl for a toast: "We're thankful for your medical help."

Pre declined: "Don't mention it. If you need anything else ---"

"Ink."

Pre waited, but there came no explanation. Eventually Maul's mouth twitched in what seemed to be amusement about the Mandalorian's irritation: "Red and black ink."

"I see!" Now Pre smiled too. He regarded the dark clad man at the opposite side of the table, remembering how the tattoos danced along the muscles of the arms and over the shapely torso down to where the flesh ended and the steel of the old prosthetics began. The Zabrak had chosen long-sleeved and long-legged garb when offered, but obviously that didn't meant he would leave the synthskin untouched and not make the replacements wholly his own. "If there is such thing in our camp, you'll have it."

"Thanks." The Zabrak took a sip of tea.

Pre did likewise, wondering about the direction their talk went and if he should set the course. He asked: "You like the tea?"

"In fact I do." Maul laughed briefly.

It was a low, throaty sound, genuinely relaxed and easy. Coming from the haughty Zabrak, it startled Pre like the touch of an unexpected caress. He leaned forward. He wanted another laugh: "I wonder what you thought when we first had tea ---"

Maul looked him straight into the eyes and responded without hesitation, again sounding almost dreamily: "Tea with a Mandalorian. The Galaxy is full of wonders."

"It is." Pre's mouth was dry. They were not just red and yellow like the old legends about the Sith said. There was a fire in them. A fire not to be mistaken for the one aside their table, tamed into dutifully warming the place. What glowed in the Zabrak's eyes was much hotter, full of knowledge and unrestrained. Before this eyes the maze of caves on Concordia would be ablaze with light and the snow-covered plains of Carlac would melt... and the serene impassivity of a Jedi challenged. The prospect of what the wielder of such an infinite power could aspire to made Pre tremble. But forcefully he stilled himself, not allowing his gaze to drop or his body to back down even an inch. He held onto his tea-bowl as if it were a lifeline, this tea with a Sith. A small fraction of this power would be suffice... a small fraction was all what he needed...

"I feel," broke Maul the spell, "that calling ourselves True Sith did not sit well with you." He made a placating gesture when Pre stirred. "There is no room for playing with words between us. I know of what it must remind you. The True Mandalorians are a mockery to all you hold sacred."

This was a tune Vizsla had last heard when he was governor of Concordia. And even then it had been a rare occasion. "They're dead. Their bones are dust and their deeds fodder for history books." Carried away by a wave of pride and joy he raised the tea-bowl: "There are things however, which are eternal. Mandalore. The Resol'nare. ---"

"A garden with blossoming Cassius trees."

Pre Vizsla's grip on his tea-bowl tensed, almost to the point of crushing the delicate material. He should be used by now to the scorn of the aruetii. The man was smaller than him even when sitting. But the droids had only restored his original size when replacing the prosthetics.

Brawny shoulders under black fabric heaved in a dismissive shrug: "I am a Sith. I don't adhere tenements to earn a happy afterlife. Yet, with the Jedi it is like with the Supercommando Codex. An abomination which needs to be erased." The Zabrak shrugged again: "To retake the galaxy is the same like retaking Mandalore. Just on an expanded scale."

The rain must have stopped while the wind picked up, pressing against the drenched fabric of the tent. From the outside came the sound of marching boots and Bo-Katan's voice shouting commands. "You want another cup?" In silence Pre Vizsla poured tea for Maul and himself. It was Maul who took up the conversation again after they had watched for some time the fragrant fume curling towards the tent's opened top-flap: "You may not have Mandalore yet, and the law of the old is solely restored in this place. But one thing you have already. The Darksaber."

"Yes." Pre's gaze drifted to the locked box in the corner. When his gaze came back, there was again the fire in the Sith's eyes. But it didn't unsettle him as it had before: "Yes, the claim to rule Mandalore."

"Only Mandalore?"

The marching and shouting had ceased, instead the turbojet of a Kom'rk whined. Pre couldn't remember that he had given his lieutenant permission for a raid. His voice was flat and sharp when he quoted: "Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor --- an vencuyan mhi." The whining died away, indicating it had been just a test-run by an engineer and not a ship's start routine. _Yes, Bo-Katan said before the flight to Florrum that even the Gauntlet was becoming ripe for an overhaul at MandalMotor's wharfs._

"A nursery rhyme --- I was a child too. But then I grow." The lids slowly closed over his eyes, and without their lustre the Zabrak's face appeared drawn. "You're a child until you realise what your true purpose is." Maul lowered his head, cradling it in one hand, the fingers of the other one caressing idly his tea-bowl. "The Darksaber is a beautiful weapon and I envy whoever had the chance to encounter you in a fight."

The clansmen who appeared before the mind's eye, the clansmen who ended his childhood with the news of Tor Vizsla's dead, bore all the same face. The pacific and calm face of a Jedi. Pre took a fast sip, the hot tea almost scalding his tongue: "You can interrogate Kenobi when meeting him."

There it was, suddenly, another laugh of Maul: "He's only fun when losing his poise. And given the fact he didn't manage to finish either of us, he must have become even more stiff over the years."

The fire was reignited and Pre Vizsla relished in the sight of it. Truly, the Force had brought them together! He gave in to an urge he had given in before, reaching out toward the Sith. The black and red tattooed fingers gripped his hand immediately. The touch was warm and strong and Pre knew, that he was strong too: "I wonder if there is time for a sparring before we start the campaign?"


	4. At Zanbar Even More Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the underwater sword-slash technique lent the [Shogun's Assassin](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shogun_Assassin) a hand.

The thin, white treads of the waterfall plunged into a wide pool. It was clear but dark toward the rock shelf. Weather held since yesterday and the influx from the last rain had drained, uncovering a strip of hard sand along the waterline which formed a natural fencing piste. Upstream was naked stone with scattered fingers of charred deadwood pointing towards the grey, slow-moving clouds. When first time landed on this planet, Pre Vizsla had felt the thick forest closing over their ships like a coffin. He had fantasised about burning the trees down despite the indispensable coverage they provided. Until he discovered this place, where fire from a lightning had done the task for him, allowing an unobstructed view of the sky.

A rustle let Pre turn to his companion. "The spot reminds me how long I neglected to practice the underwater sword-slash technique," said Maul folding his black tunic and putting it on the ground. The rest of his garments and the boots soon completed the tidy heap.

When he overcame the loss for words, Pre was thankful the noise of the waterfall hid the sudden hoarseness of his voice. "Don't feel obliged to reveal secret Sith technique." He knew, the med-droids had done a good job. And he knew, someone had dug up red and black ink in the camp. But he was not prepared to see the result was so... _perfect_. Envy welled up in Pre, envy for Savage, the brother, who could see this perfection everyday.

"The Darksaber is made for this move." Maul gripped his wooden training weapon, gauging it along its length: "This will do for a demonstration." He lowered the sabre and turned half toward the water, his whole body in a beautifully stance of a naked arrogant 'Shall we?'

Wordless Pre nodded, suppressing the urge to reach out and feel for the welt, the seam-like scar, where the prosthetics met the flesh, which must be there, but was invisible in the Sith's wild tattoos. Averting his gaze, Pre undressed too. When he finally looked up, there was admiration in the other man's eyes: "You're a fair warrior, Pre Vizsla."

Pre grinned. The water weighed in with its pressure and coldness, promising an extra challenge added to the already difficult execution of Makashi's elaborate footwork on slippery and sharp-edged pebbles. He loved such challenges.

"Look!" Don't waiting for acknowledgement Maul began with the demonstration. The water played around his thighs when he held his training weapon low, but just under the surface of the water. Pre knew the blade was there, he saw Maul's sinewy arms, the elegant sweep of the Zabrak's red and black marked back. His opponent was perfectly still, no muscle twitched. Yet, between the ever moving water surface and the pebbly ground, the blade had lost its shape. Pre squinted, keeping his focus. Nevertheless he almost missed the moment it shot at him like a predatory fish. Like one of the namesake Juyo moving through the lava-streams of Sarapin. Pre roared in anger, when he figured out, that with a real lightsabre this would not lead to Sai Cha, employed against a truly dangerous opponent, but simply cut him open to spill his intestines as if he was already a carcass.

Pre's evasive motion developed instinctively into a Djem So counter-attack. Maul jumped back and the smile he had worn changed for the glimpse of an eye to a sneer. Perhaps he had noticed some agility his prosthetics left wanting. Pre however saw no clumsiness in his opponent's motions. Instead he realised with no little shock, the Sith had no restriction to resort any time to the more acrobatic Artaru while he had no jet-pack to level this towering advantage. Pre Vizsla pressed his attack harder.

Beads of water glistened on the Sith's well-defined shoulders and chest the closer their battle move to the plunging stream. Pre attacked, Maul parried and the beads flow away in a sparkling flurry. They exchanged further attacks and parries, yet all of a sudden Pre had Maul pinned at the wall of rock under the waterfall. Pre held the broadside of his wooden training weapon firmly over Maul's throat, the Zabrak keeping him in check with the tip of his sabre wedged under the Mandalorian's chin. Ice showered over them, ripping the breath from Pre's hard labouring breast and numbing his limbs. Maul however seemed amused: "Why holding back?" He spread his arms and let go of his weapon.

Pre didn't answer. But he also didn't move when Maul raised a hand. Pre only closed his eyes before the light of the yellow ones, transfixing him with their unblinking stare through a veil of water. Burning fingertips traced the scar over his right brow. Maul sounded genuinely bemused: "Kenobi's lightsabre impaired your sight. It's repaired now, but you hold back your strength. Why? Why not thinking beyond Mandalore?"

"This is folly!"

"Kenobi thought it folly too, to come back and make him pay for his misdeeds. But here I am ---" The hot fingertips moved slowly toward his chin, eventually grabbing it, yanking Pre's head in a comfortable position to savage the Mandalorian's mouth. "Why not thinking beyond Mandalore?" Asked Maul again after breaking the kiss.

"Because Death Watch is of the Mando'ade and only of that." Pre fought hard to suppress the shiver of cold entering his voice. Or was it a shiver of excitement because he finally realised the truth? Like Concordia was just a part of Mandalore for him, Mandalore was just a part of the galaxy for the Jedi. So, to secure Mandalore he had to take on the galaxy. And with a Sith at his side he could fight the Jedi all over the galaxy, could he not?

Maul laughed.

The laugh was cut short, when Pre throw his weapon away and got hold of the Zabrak's shoulders to return the passionate kiss. The flesh he pressed his body against radiated a pleasing heat and two hands seized his buttocks with a strong grip. He felt Maul's chest heaving in a chuckle: "Do you really think I would let myself mount by someone less than a true Mand'alor?"


	5. Postscript From Zanbar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added just in case someone would like to know. I mean, I wanted to know after I let utter Bo-Katan Kryze the line about watching the other Sith. However, for the Pre Vizla's story this chapter is gratuitous. It actually rather imbalances his story. And, this is where the whole thing becomes explicit in a porno-graphic sense – caution.

Bo-Katan watched Savage Oppress from afar. The enormous Sith had retired to the Death Watch's makeshift shooting range and used a couple of Vrakolian spin-stars to train his new, prosthetic arm. He chucked the blades with a nifty flip of his wrist, forcing them into a confusing, horizontal orbit. Some were allowed to fly the full circle, some he caught at end of a parabola before he threw them again. Occasionally he changed hands or even the method for seizing the little, sharp weapons. From above, from beyond, scooping, batting, grabbing... _The embodiment of Kad Ha'rangir running the galaxy with deft hands._ The book this image came from had had the promising title 'Desire of the Gods', and its illustrations made teenage Satine and Bo-Katan speculating which of the clansmen would look alike under their armour. And how it would be, if the men engaged in those actions the book described. But before the sisters could carry out their plan to sneak a peek in the lockers and showers to verify their speculations, Satine developed a crush on a gangly and elliptical Padawan.

Savage's eyes bulged and his lips were parted in oblivious rapture. Between a throw and a catch he removed a thin thread of drool from the corner of his mouth. _He is an animal_ , thought Bo-Katan. She crossed the clearing. It was deserted, not a single member of Death Watch busy with the target and support installations. Just as she had told them.

When the Zabrak spotted her, he clapped his hands and put the collected throwing stars with a clink at one of the oblong, waist-high crates used as supporting point for heavy guns. The Mandalorian stopped hard in front of him. With a happy grin he held out his hands, showing the beefy palms, one real, one synthflesh, but both already tattooed in yellow and brown: "There is no difference!"

Bo-Katan contemplated the sight for a moment, then took his hands and placed them on her breasts. The Sith's yellow eyes opened wide at this unexpected invitation. But to Bo-Katan's delight he started to rub his thumbs over her nipples and work her breasts softly without hesitation. This demonstration of obedience called for more exploration: "Enough!"

Savage dropped his hands as if slapped, but a knowing smile split the broad face, obliterating the fierceness of its tattoos a good deal: "You gave commands. They're all away. And you don't ware your armour over your bodysuit, right?"

"Sly dog," snarled Bo-Katan. "Remove your shirt." She gauged his reaction for signs of resistance. The grin left Savage's face, but his stance showed only the slightest trace of strain. The Sith did as ordered, placing the shirt on the crate aside the throwing stars. Bo-Katan took a step closer. She had watched him exercise for quite a while, but there was no whiff of sweat, not even the smallest trace of perspiration on the yellow and brown striped skin. It appeared smooth beyond comparison, as if nothing could ever bother its perfection. Perhaps it was this supernatural quality Satine had admired in another Force-user, in Padawan Kenobi. The very same Kenobi who, as a knight, cut off Savage Opress' arm. Yet, if Bo-Katan would not know which arm had been cut off by the Jedi... "Indeed, no difference." She pressed a hand against the Zabrak's big chest, pleased by the power she felt. And more so by the tiny, involuntary twitch under her palm.

With her fingertips Bo-Katan traced the tattoos on Savage's skin, descending slowly the flat belly. It took him a while, but eventually in response Savage stroke tentatively her hair. She leaned into his touch, giving him permission to speak. It was a low rumble vibrating through his chest: "The Nightsisters also have red hair."

"I heard Dathomir Witches are harsh mistresses." Bo-Katan's hand stopped at the waistband of Savage's trousers. "Drop your pants." Their fingers touched briefly and Bo-Katan expected him to use the chance to grab her wrists and steal a kiss, but the Zabrak was not that skilful. What his dropped pants revealed however was very promising and justified fully the gaze of pride Savage shot her. From a pocket of her bodysuit Bo-Katan retrieved a small bottle of lube and put it on the crate before she took off the bodysuit. "Sit down."

 _The witches have really good housebroken him_ , she thought when she straddled the Sith and he dutifully clasped her hips but waited for further instructions. Bo-Katan petted Savage's cock, but only briefly. When she snuggled herself against the Zabrak it was hard and heavy against her belly. She longed to have his cock inside, but she could wait. There were other things to play with before... "Is it true? Your horns ---?"

"Yes," growled Savage hoarsely. He lowered his head, so that Bo-Katan could choose from his impressive Zabrakian crown of horns, and closed his eyes. Burning desire distorted Savage's features. The skin around the temple horn was soft and warm under her tongue. The Sith moaned, making a small evasive movement. Bo-Katan engaged a hand in working the base of one of the horns at the backside of his head, holding him in place. Soon she felt Savage's breath hot against her breast, his hips pumped and she reciprocated this motion. Savage's mouth got hold of her nipple, sucking it with devotion. The pressure of his teeth on it send a flash along her spine. With a gasp she rose on her knees. In sync his hands changed position and his thumb precisely found her clit. Her nails dug into the silken skin around the horn under her hand and something wet and hot spurted over her belly.

Bo-Katan let go of the horns, leaning her face toward Savage's, until their foreheads and noses touched: "You won't tell me that's all, will you?"

"No," repeated Savage breathing heavily.

Wordless Bo-Katan reached for the lube, making sure the Sith did not miss a single touch when she lubed herself. She thought of testing how strong the restraints were, the witches had instilled in him, but lust at the sight of his still big and hard cock got the better of her. Bo-Katan grabbed it, lubing it with firm strokes: "I want you to fuck me hard, Dathomir bastard. Make me cry." How she missed that since Pre Vizsla had lost all interest in sex after the dead of this villager girl on Carlac!


End file.
